


a step under the current

by snarky_saxophonist



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Boyfriends being protective and loving each other, Established Relationship, M/M, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 14:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14896460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_saxophonist/pseuds/snarky_saxophonist
Summary: Willson loves his boyfriend, and he especially loves catching for him. There's nothing like the feeling when they're locked into the game together, just the two of them against the world. Sometimes, though, he really wants to wrap Kyle in bubble wrap with their cat growling at anybody who comes near so that nothing can ever happen to Kyle.





	a step under the current

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this is a work of fiction and not intended to reflect real life in any way. If you or anyone you know personally is tagged in this, please close out of this now.

Willy loves catching for his boyfriend, and he loves having a lead against the Cardinals at Wrigley. They’re up 7-1, and Kyle has been having himself a great game. Lots of soft contact, his curveball getting some nice whiffs, and the Cardinals hitting into a lot of first and second pitch outs. There’s really no better way to spend an evening.

Until the seventh, at least.

Dex gets good wood on a off-placed curveball, and Willson knows right away that it’s going to be a hit if it doesn’t go directly into a glove. And it doesn’t, because it goes straight back to the mound, right into Kyle’s head.

Kyle staggers backwards a step, then goes down hard, sprawling out on the dirt as the ball careens its way across the field. Willson barely sees the ball go the other way as he beelines for Kyle, ripping off his mask as he goes. The infield starts to converge as well, and Willson can hear Anthony calling for a trainer, but he only has eyes for Kyle as he rolls onto his side.

“Hey, hey, stay still,” Willson says, dropping to the ground next to his boyfriend and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m good,” Kyle says, completely ignoring him in favor of pulling off his cap and sitting slowly up.

“Kyle-“ Willson starts, but the trainer is there before he can say anything else, pushing Willson out of the way to crouch in front of Kyle.

“Just sit for a moment,” PJ tells Kyle, reaching out to cup his face, but Kyle pays him as much attention as he had Willson.

“I’m good,” he insists again, pulling back slightly from PJ’s touch to stand. Willson watches him closely, standing close enough to help steady Kyle if necessary, but Kyle doesn’t seem shaky at all.

“Yeah, that’s my job to evaluate, so at least stand still so I can check you out, alright?” PJ’s tone brokers no room for argument, and Kyle obeys this time, looking at the trainer as he peers at Kyle’s dark eyes. “Where’d it hit you?”

“Side of my head,” Kyle says, lifting a hand to indicate the area, stopping just short of touching it as PJ tilts his chin to get a better look at the area. Willson notices Joe finally joining them as PJ prods gently at where Kyle had gotten nailed. Kyle doesn’t wince noticeably, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly. Which, for Kyle, is as telling as if he’d cried out in pain.

“That hurt?” PJ asks.

“Little sore, but not too painful,” Kyle admits.

“Alright, follow my finger, and I’m going to ask you a few questions,” PJ says, releasing his grip on Kyle’s face. Kyle nods slightly in acknowledgement. “Who hit the ball that hit you?”

“Dex,” Kyle replies without hesitation. “On a 1-2 pitch. Willy called for a curve, but I didn’t put it right where we wanted it.”

“That right, Willson?” PJ asks, still moving his finger back and forth as Kyle follows it.

“Yes,” Willson confirms, but he’s starting to feel a little bit of dread at Kyle’s correct answers. Obviously he doesn’t want his boyfriend to be seriously injured, but he also doesn’t want him staying in the game, even if he seems alright. Willy’s seen too many catchers err on that side of things and end up paying for it later.

“What’s the date, score, and inning?” PJ asks. Kyle rattles them off correctly, and the trainer nods approvingly. “You sure you feel good?”

“I’m sure I’m going to get at least this damn out,” Kyle replies, a note of unrelenting steel in his voice.

“How about you throw a couple of warmup pitches first before deciding that, huh?” PJ sounds almost amused now. Willson wishes he could relax at the trainer’s lack of concern, but the tight band of worry in his chest seems to have taken up permanent residence there. 

“Alright,” Kyle nods, taking his cap back from Anthony, who’d picked it up off the ground. “Willy?”

“Yeah,” Willy says reluctantly, clenching his jaw and walking quickly back to the plate. He sets up in his usual crouch, positioning his glove behind the center of the plate. Some tiny part of him hopes that Kyle’s throws are way off so that PJ will have no choice but to pull him, which would mean no chance of him getting further injured. 

But Kyle’s precision doesn’t seem to have suffered, as the ball lands squarely in Willson’s glove. Kyle catches it easily when Willy tosses it back, and his next pitch is equally as good. Same with the other three he throws before PJ gestures for Willson to return to the mound.

“He seem good to you?” PJ asks Willson, who hesitates just a moment before replying in the affirmative. “Good, good.”

“Is he okay to stay in?” Joe asks PJ.

“Yes,” Kyle says immediately. Even though Willson was expecting it, he still turns his head to give Kyle his best glare. It has as much impact as it always does – which is to say, none at all.

“No!” Willson says incredulously, looking at PJ for backup.

“Yeah, I was asking neither of you,” Joe says dryly. “Head athletic trainer PJ Mainville, do you think Kyle is good to stay in the game?”

“Yes,” PJ says. “I’ll check him out a little more thoroughly in the dugout, but he seems to have dodged a bullet. Or a baseball, as the case may be.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly dodge it. Try to do that next time, won’t you?” Joe pats Kyle on the arm and heads back towards the dugout with PJ, apparently satisfied.

“I’m fine, Willson, really,” Kyle says, speaking into his glove when Willson doesn’t head back to the plate as quickly as the other infielders are taking their positions. “Let’s just finish this inning, okay?”

Willson glares at him for a moment, his mind still replaying the moment the ball had struck Kyle and the split second before he’d fallen. He doesn’t want Kyle staying in, much as he trusts his pitcher, but he can at least recognize that that’s the overprotective boyfriend part of him talking and not the catcher part. “Be careful, please,” he says finally, tapping Kyle on the thigh as he at last makes his way back to the plate.

Kyle remains sharp, striking out the next batter on four pitches, and waits for Willson to trot to the mound for a fist bump before he makes his way off. Dex comes jogging over from first, too, tapping Kyle on the shoulder before he can go.

“Hey, you okay, man? I’m sorry about that,” he says earnestly, and Kyle gifts him with a rare in-game smile.

“Not your fault. No harm done, anyways,” Kyle nods at Dex, who smiles in relief.

“Glad to hear it. I’d hate to hurt you,” Dex says, then waves at the ump who’s starting to come over towards them. “I’ll talk to you after the game, glad you’re feeling okay.” 

Dex hurries back towards his own dugout, and Willy puts a hand on Kyle’s lower back to steer him off the field. The touch reassures him, and he knows the fans and reporters will brush it off as just a close pitcher-catcher relationship. Kyle, for his part, seems to realize that Willson needs this touch to ground himself, so he doesn’t say anything in protest.

Once they reach the dugout, though, PJ pulls Kyle off for more tests, and Willson has to hustle to get his bat and helmet so he can be in the on deck circle when their half of the inning starts. 

Rizzo doubles on the first pitch he sees to start off the inning, and then Willson has to shove aside his worry about Kyle to bat.

“Hendricks okay?” Yadi asks as Willson taps his bat on the dirt. Willson glances down at him in surprise. The other catcher has never been his biggest fan, and now he’s asking how his pitcher is?

“He’ll be fine,” Willson says tightly. It’s not Yadi’s fault, and certainly not Dex’s either, but Willy really wants someone to blame for it. He’s angry and worried and wants some way to vent that. 

“Good.” Yadi settles into his crouch, conversation clearly over. Willson shakes his head to clear it and lifts his bat, waiting for his pitch.

Willson can’t get his bat around quickly as he wants to, so he doesn’t get too much force behind it. He takes off running hard down the line, but he’s not surprised when he gets thrown out. At least he managed to move Rizzo up a base.

Kyle’s already back in the dugout when Willson tosses his bat back in with the others, chatting casually with Lester. Willson heads over to him, expecting that Kyle is just waiting for the last two innings before going to get cleaned up.

“Your pitcher is one tough guy, Willy,” Lester comments as Willy joins them at the air. “We might have to reassign your Killer nickname to him.”

“Still feeling good?” Willy asks, glancing over at him. 

“Yep,” Kyle confirms. “You’re stuck with at least one more inning of me today.”

“You’re going back out there?” Willson’s gaze snaps over to Kyle, incredulous once again at Kyle’s cavalier attitude. Bad enough that Kyle insisted on staying in to finish out that inning, but he’s planning on continuing to pitch this game?

“Yeah, my pitch count’s not that high and the bullpen is pretty taxed.” Kyle shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you got hit in the head with a baseball going about a hundred miles an hour,” Willson says sarcastically.

“Yeah, and I got checked out,” Kyle says, like that’s the end of the conversation.

“Okay, Willy, we’re going to go talk elsewhere. Bye Kyle!” Jon says quickly, putting a hand on Willy’s arm and steering him down the dugout, into the tunnel where they can’t be seen by cameras. “What the hell’s going on with you? You’ve gotta chill and let Kyle pitch.”

“He got nailed in the head by a line drive, I’m just concerned,” Willy defends himself. Out on the field, he hears the sound of a bat cracking against a ball and flinches, the noise reminding him too much of the sickening sound of a ball slamming into Kyle’s unprotected skull.

“Look, you two have been great about keeping things off the field, but this right here? This is you not being great about it. You’re worried about him.”

“I’d be just as worried if it was you!” Willson tries to protest. Arguments with Jon are always frustrating because they’re both incredibly stubborn and neither is willing to back down. Ever.

Jon gives Willy a flat look. “No, you wouldn’t. Which you shouldn’t. It’s a different situation, and you should be concerned about him, but you need to keep it off the field. And speaking of, you’re up. Go back your pitcher up and fuss over him once you get home.”

He slaps Willy on the ass, a clear dismissal, and Willson shakes his head, hustling across the dugout to get his catching gear on. Kyle looks at him warily, so Willy smiles at him in an attempt to be reassuring. He’ll talk to Kyle after the game – provided, of course, that Kyle doesn’t further injure himself somehow.

“Molina’s been whiffing on the curve all night,” Willy offers quietly when Kyle sits down next to him.

“He has,” Kyle agrees. “I’d make a joke about not remembering, but I do, and I’m a little concerned you’d go over there and fight Dex.”

“I wouldn’t fight Dex, I love Dex,” Willy says, as mildly as he can. He’s not used to keeping himself mild, especially during games. If he throws Kyle off now, though, they’ll both be pissed at themselves after the game. “He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m not really hurt, Willy,” Kyle says, handing him his glove. “Now let’s go shut them down.”

“Fuck yeah,” Willy agrees, hopping to his feet and patting Kyle on the back.

 

Sure enough, Kyle sets the Cardinals down 1-2-3 in the eighth. He’s pulled for a pinch hitter in the bottom of the inning, but eight innings with only one run given up is plenty impressive. Kyle always seems to put on a show when the bullpen is taxed, and today’s game has been no exception.

There are no post-game television interviews today, thankfully, so Willy can hustle back into the clubhouse and duck into the trainer’s room before the media can catch him. Kyle, freshly showered and dressed casually, is going through more comprehensive concussion tests, so Willy leans against the wall next to the door to wait. He’s intimately familiar with concussion testing, being a catcher, and he can tell that Kyle’s acing them.

“Come see me tomorrow so I can check you out one more time, to be on the safe side,” PJ says eventually. “I’d avoid driving tonight just in case, but I’m assuming your bodyguard over here will cover that, huh?”

“That’s my job,” Willy says with a shrug, only half joking. Looking out for his pitchers is just part of being a catcher. And if it goes a little further for Kyle, well, that just makes sense.

“I’m ready to go when you are,” Kyle tells him, hopping down off the exam table. “Although I think I’m going to go hide in the weight room so I don’t have to talk to the media today.”

“And I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” PJ says, shaking his head in what looks like a combination of amusement and exasperation. He goes into the back room, thankfully leaving the two of them in private for a moment.

“I’ll be ready to go into fifteen minutes,” Willy says, giving Kyle a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“You don’t need to rush,” Kyle says.

“Yeah, but I really want to be home with you right now, so I’d rather just be done,” Willy replies, opening the door and gesturing for Kyle to go ahead of him.

“Alright,” Kyle agrees, heading in the opposite direction, towards the weight room. Willson ducks back into the locker room to grab his towel, thankful that the press is already occupied with other players. Rizzo shoots him a mild glare from where he’s talking to Carrie Muskat, reminding Willson that he actually was supposed to be talking to reporters today. He’s sure Rizzo will forgive him, though. They’ve all covered for Kris and Rizzo before when one of them has gotten hurt and the other has gone to check on them.

Willy’s through showering before anybody else, and he changes while a lot of the team is still making their way to the showers. Thankfully, the media has cleared out by then, so he can make his way to the weight room without being questioned.

“Hey!” Kyle pockets his phone and stands up, smiling at Willson. “That was quick.”

“I told you I would be,” Willson wants to kiss Kyle right now, but it’s too risky in the ballpark, so he settles for a quick hug. “Home?”

“Let’s go,” Kyle agrees. “I just have to swing by the locker room and grab my bag on our way out.”

“Let me get it for you,” Willy says, holding the door open for Kyle to precede him. Kyle glances back at him, looking like he’s about to protests, so Willy jumps in quickly. “You pitched today, let your arm rest. Okay?”

“Fine,” Kyle says, but Willy can tell he’s ever so slightly annoyed by it. Which is dumb, because Willy almost always takes Kyle’s bag for him after Kyle’s start. Willy’s not treating him any different than usual – now, at least. 

 

“Hey!” Dex grins, teeth flashing brightly as he greets them in the hall outside the locker room. “You guys got ready quickly, I’m glad I caught you. How’s the head, Kyle?”

“Well, you gave me a bit of a lump, so now I’ll look awful in pictures until that goes down,” Kyle says dryly, lips quirking up into a half smile. Dex’s smile brightens even more, which doesn’t seem possible.

“I hate to break it to you, but you weren’t exactly gettin’ all the ladies based on your looks even before this,” he teases. Kyle just lifts his eyebrows.

“Not exactly looking for any ladies right now,” he says, reaching out to squeeze Willy’s shoulder. “You’re not going to break up with me just because of this, right?”

“Well,” Willson says, drawing out the word and getting laughter from both Dex and Kyle. 

“I think you’re safe,” Dex says, winking at Kyle. “Listen, I gotta head out, but take care, okay? Get some ice on that head and let Willy keep an eye out for you.”

“Will do. And give my best to your family,” Kyle says, giving Dex a quick hug. And since he’s started that, Willy has to hug Dex too. He still misses being on the same team as him. 

“Good to see you, man,” Willy says, nodding to his former teammate as he starts to double back towards the visitor’s clubhouse. 

“Well, let’s try this again, maybe make it a little further out this time,” Kyle jokes, starting down the hallway again. 

“I doubt any of the other Cardinals are going to rush out of here to check on you, so I think we’re good,” Willy says, smiling over at his boyfriend.

“I hope not, because I’m really done with people for the day,” Kyle says with a bit of a rueful grin. “I know, I know, don’t make fun of me for being an introvert.”

“Would I do that?” Willson teases. Kyle just laughs and raises an eyebrow. “Okay, fair,” Willy concedes. 

 

Kyle’s quiet in the car as Willy drives home, which in itself is not that unusual. Kyle’s often quiet after his starts, caught up in his own head and reflecting back on his pitching, but today Willson can’t help the concern that bubbles up in him. 

“Your head hurting you?” he asks as neutrally as he can.

“Nah, I’m just a little tired. You know I didn’t sleep great last night,” Kyle says.

“Hey, it’s your own fault for having a cat that demands snuggles at three in the morning,” Willy shoots back, keeping the relief at Kyle’s answer out of his voice.

“Bartlet’s cute, you can’t blame her for that,” Kyle says. “Besides, I could name a time or two when you’ve been very insistently demanding snuggles from me, too.”

“Comparing me to the cat? Not nice,” Willy complains. 

“She’s a good cat! And if you’re not nice to me, I’ll kick you out of bed and snuggle with her instead.”

“You wouldn’t, you love me too much for that,” Willy replies casually, glancing over at Kyle when he stops at a red light. “Bartlet can’t catch for you.”

“Well, we don’t know that. She hasn’t tried, but I have faith in her,” Kyle replies archly. Willy reaches over to smack him on the leg.

“Don’t the Cubs have a bad history with cats on the field?” Willy points out.

“Bartlet wouldn’t be bad luck for the team, how dare you!” Kyle protests. “She’s a perfect little angel and she’d bring good luck to us.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Willy says, adopting his best impression of a British woman. Kyle bursts out laughing. Willy pulls to a stop in the garage of Kyle’s apartment building and looks over at his boyfriend, drinking in how happy and bright he looks.

“I don’t advise you quit your day job to become an impressionist,” Kyle says, still laughing as he gets out of the car.

Bartlet greets them immediately when Kyle unlocks the door, meowing loudly and insistently. Willy smiles affectionately at both of them when Kyle crouches to pet his cat, chattering quietly to the feline as she headbutts him repeatedly in the shins.

“Does my pretty girl want some dinner?” Kyle asks Bartlet, scooping her into his arms. Willy tosses the keys in the dish and their game bags in the closet, following after them as Kyle heads towards the kitchen.

“Careful, you’re going to make me jealous,” Willy says, getting out a can of cat food from the fridge and passing it to Kyle as the cat jumps down from his arms.

“You should be jealous. Bartlet’s been my little sweetheart since long before you and I met,” Kyle says over Bartlet’s loud meowing as he dishes out some food into her bowl.

“I would be jealous, except for the fact that you’re gay, and oh, you know, Bartlet’s a cat,” Willy says dryly. 

“Yeah, but she’s my kitty, and she’s been with me since before I was a Cy Young contender, and the same can’t be said for you.” Kyle stands back up to give Willy a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to head to bed, are you up for a bit?”

“No, I’ll join you. Don’t forget to grab some ice for your head,” Willy reminds him before he can leave the room. Although Kyle rolls his eyes, he does grab an icepack from the freezer and heads to their bedroom.

 

Curled around Kyle in bed with the lights off, Willy expects that Kyle’s going to fall asleep right away. Bartlet’s already snoring softly by their feet. However, just as Willy is starting to drift off into sleep, Kyle rolls over to face him.

“You know, I was scared too,” Kyle admits softly, lacing his fingers through Willy’s.

“Yeah?” Willy asks. He can barely see Kyle’s face in the dark, but he can tell that Kyle doesn’t particularly want to talk about this.

“I barely saw it coming at me. I didn’t even have time to get my glove more than halfway up before I was on the ground,” Kyle says. “That’s why I ignored you and PJ and got up. I needed to prove to myself that I was okay, or I knew I wouldn’t get up and I’d spend the next five days freaking out about getting hit again.”

“I don’t remember ever being so scared,” Willy says. “He hit it hard and you – you were just lying there. I was really scared.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m sorry for getting annoyed earlier,” Kyle says, taking their joined hands and pressing them to the side of his head. It’s chilly to the touch thanks to the ice, and Willy can feel a slight lump there. “I’m okay, though, really. I promise.”

“You were fine. I was being a little unreasonable. I should’ve trusted you that you were okay, but I was just worried,” Willy explains.

“I’d say that’s entirely reasonable. But we’re both okay now,” Kyle says, leaning in to gently kiss Willy on the lips.

“Thank God for that,” Willy murmurs. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kyle replies. He shifts so he’s lying in Willy’s arms once again, and Bartlet meows loudly in protest from where she’s lying at the end of the bed. Willy can’t help but feel something in him settle. He’s got his boyfriend – his badass boyfriend who’s somehow thick-skulled enough to take a liner off the head and be fine – in bed with him, a noisy and often annoying cat, and he really can’t think of a better way to fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I know Kyle does have a cat, but I do not know its name, so I made one up for it because I couldn't not include the cat in my fic.
> 
> Drop a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it! Or come say hi on my tumblr, I'm @snarky-saxophonist. I'm always down to talk about Kyle and Willy!


End file.
